Oh how happy I am to think I shall see you once again. Shall be with you tomorrow.
POLLY TO A. D.
New York,
March.
I’m getting desperate. It is impossible to write you how I feel or why, but I’m so alone except for Checkers. He said today, “Why young ’un, you’re getting restless,” and so I am. The Prince arrives tomorrow—Aunt still continues to be queer about our engagement. So you think I really gave the lion to the Prince? And you are flirting with the dangerous Mona Lisa. Oh, everything seems topsy turvey!
POLLY TO A. D.
Cable.
New York,